


The Power of Vanilla Rum

by seagreen-meets-grey (haddxck)



Category: How to Train Your Dragon (Movies)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, never underestimate vanilla rum, oh my god they were roommates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-16
Updated: 2020-02-16
Packaged: 2021-02-27 21:00:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,562
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22762075
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/haddxck/pseuds/seagreen-meets-grey
Summary: Sometimes confessions don’t go the way you always imagined them to.
Relationships: Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III/Astrid Hofferson
Comments: 8
Kudos: 74





	The Power of Vanilla Rum

**Author's Note:**

> I somewhere read a comment about Hiccup that said puberty hit him hard (I agree), so my brain barfed this up.

The music was piercing through Hiccup’s ears, the bass reverberating in his chest, and the choice of song was a big mystery to him.

The only reason he’d agreed to come to this party was currently chugging half a bottle of vanilla rum in one go, the kind that slowly sneaked up on you, then suddenly made a fog bomb explode in your brain and turn your stomach upside down. He shuddered. Never again, he vowed to himself, not for the first time.

Despite his personal beef with the drink in her hand, everything else about her was captivating. It was in the way she held herself, it was in her laugh, in the way her hair floated around her with every move she made. Someone shouted something at her over the music and he swallowed hard when her eyes crinkled and the sound of her laughter triumphed over the music.

He took a deep, shaky breath when she spun around and her dress flowed with the motion, lighthearted and carefree. She spotted him and waved before heading his way.

“Hey, Astrid. I see you made a new friend.” He pointed at the empty bottle in her hand.

She stuck out her tongue at him, her eyes a little unfocused, as she put the bottle on a nearby table with more force than necessary. He supposed the fog bomb was already leaking.

“You.” She poked a finger to his chest.

“What about me?”

„I love how puberty hit you so hard.”

“Huh?” He leaned in closer, because he didn’t really understand what she was saying.

She poked him again, this time in the jaw. “It hit you so hard, like… So hard, you know?” Tilting her head, she raised her eyebrows at him, as if whatever message she was trying to get across was supposed to be obvious and she wondered why he hadn’t instantly got it. “It hit you so hard that– that it extended to me and made me fall.” She poked him again. “For you. That’s how hard it hit.”

His heart stopped and he frowned, not quite believing he’d heard her right. The music was way too loud. “Do you know what you’re saying right now?”

Instead of answering, she grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and pulled him in for a kiss, sloppy and open-mouthed. After a moment of surprise, he gently pushed her off him, holding her steady as she started tumbling to the side.

“Astrid, you’re very drunk.”

She tried to pull him in again and even when inebriated, she was a lot stronger than him, making it a struggle to repeatedly push her away.

“But I want you,” she slurred and made another attempt to kiss him.

“No,” he said in a firm voice while feeling everything but. “We can talk about this tomorrow, when you’re not under the influence of alcohol.” He looked her dead in the eye, making sure he had her full attention, or rather as much attention as she was capable of paying right now. “Okay?”

Pouting, she grumbled a bit, but then she nodded. “Okay…” Hiccup sighed and watched her teeter away, throwing her arms around a friend she’d spotted in the crowd.

This was not how he’d always imagined this to go, if it ever happened at all. But what dream could possibly become perfectly true?

* * *

The sunlight that hit Astrid’s face when she squinted her eyes open wasn’t even the worst part of waking up hungover. It was the nausea welling up the moment she shifted in her bed to get into a more comfortable position.

She froze, closing her eyes and breathing as calmly as possible against the urge to hurl the contents of her stomach all over her sheets. But even that could only do so much. Her entire body screamed in protest when she scrambled out of bed to get to the bathroom, fearing she might not make it in time. Luckily, she found a bucket right next to her nightstand.

Everything was spinning as she knelt on the floor of her room, vomiting into the bucket. She didn’t dare to move when the first wave of nausea ebbed away, leaving her with aching limbs and a heavy head that she leaned on the edge of the bucket. Closing her eyes, she concentrated on keeping her stomach calm. She could hear her pulse inside her skull. The plastic would surely leave a mark on her forehead.

When the next wave hit her, she regretted everything that had led to her agreeing to go to that stupid party last night. Why had she done that in the first place? Hadn’t she learned from her mistakes in the past? Apparently not.

Instead, she’d drunk too much again, resulting in her pathetically filling this bucket with a mix of stomach acid and the fries she’d eaten only hours ago, not to mention the excess of unhealthy liquid she’d bothered her poor system with.

Something in the back of her mind puzzled her for a moment and she lifted her head to peer at the bucket. When had she put this here? And where had the water bottle and box of aspirin on her nightstand come from? And how had she been able to put the charger in her phone? She couldn’t even remember how she’d made it home in the first place.

From somewhere in the apartment, she heard a clattering sound, and the answer came to her in an instant. Of course, she had the best school friend turned roommate turned best friend turned crush in the world. She felt the corners of her mouth quiver into a smile that died the moment her brain decided to remind her of what she’d done last night.

“Oh, no…” she moaned while bits and pieces came back to her, assembling the memories that brought up a whole other kind of nausea. Or maybe it was just regular nausea, because a few seconds later, hot and cold shivers ran down her spine and she threw up again.

* * *

It was late in the afternoon when she shuffled into the kitchen to get herself something to eat, maybe some dry crackers or a small bowl of broth, although even the thought of solid food made her queasy.

Hiccup was sitting at the table, reading glasses balanced crookedly on his nose, as he typed away on his laptop. She was sure he hadn’t had much to drink last night, but he looked like he’d not slept a wink. There were bags under his eyes and he was resting his chin on his hand. He looked up when she entered.

“Look who rose from the grave,” he teased, earning himself a glare before she turned her back to him to rummage through the cabinets. She could feel his eyes boring into her and her cheeks started to feel hot under his gaze. Biting her lip, she fumbled with a box of zwieback, dragging out the moment she had to face him again.

“Did I really do that last night?” she jumped right in, hating the insecurity that had the nerve to sneak into her voice.

“Which part?” he hesitantly asked after a moment of silence.

She gulped. “You know what I mean.”

He didn’t say anything at first, the silence in the kitchen stretching on, only interrupted by the ticking of the clock every second and the rustling of the zwieback box she kept nervously toying with.

“Were you serious?”

She tentatively turned around, biscuit crumbling in her hand. He was regarding her carefully, eyes open and honest, his entire posture guarded but almost hopeful, if she wasn’t kidding herself here. But she took pride in being the one who knew him better than he did himself, and she had seen this expression on him before.

“Yes,” she said resolutely. The zwieback broke in her tense grip, crumbs littering the floor.

“About all of it?” She nodded. “How–“ he cleared his throat, “how long have you been feeling this way?”

Still not giving in to the instinct to turn away, brush it off and make everything go back to the way it used to be, she held his gaze. “First year of uni.”

As he gaped at her, she could see his mind run the calculations and process the implications, his eyes posing as giant round portals to his soul.

“Well,” he breathed and averted his gaze, rubbing his neck as a blush spread down his face, a soft smile lighting up his features. “I guess that makes two of us then.”

Her heart understood the words before her head did, dancing in her chest and pumping warm blood into her face.

“I swear,” she announced, “as soon as I’m not feeling like shit anymore, I’m going to kiss you. Hard.”

His blush intensified and his grin was blinding, the corners of his eyes crinkling. He got up from his chair, walked over and hesitated only a second before he tilted his head and gave her a kiss on the cheek. "Make sure to brush your teeth first."

She breathed on him in revenge, taking pleasure in the way he scrunched up his face, grin still in place.

As far as confessions went, she thought with a warm glow in her chest, this one seemed to have worked out just fine.


End file.
